


Monsters

by SpaceMirror



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is a demon, Demon AU, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, I don't know why I'm posting this, Time is Weird, this is not a shipfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 22:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceMirror/pseuds/SpaceMirror
Summary: The monsters in our closets aren't always dangerous.





	Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> So, I found this while going through my google drive. It was finished and not half-bad. I was super into Hamilton, but I don't hate this so, here it is.

Jack’s five years old. He has a little sister now. He kisses her forehead when Daddy gives her to him for the first time. She’s so small, he’s afraid he’ll break her. She opens her eyes, and they look just like Mommy’s. He promises himself that he’ll never see her cry. She giggles, and reaches to grab John’s cheeks. He looks at his parents.   
“We can keep her.” He says, definitive. Henry smiles for the first time in hours. Eleanor smiles, beckons him to bring Martha closer. He crawls over to her, and she holds her two children close.

Alexander is three hundred. He’s a demon. A monster. A spit in the face of those who believe in the divine. He haunts, he torments. He plagues homes. He makes deals, and collects, most of the time painfully. He takes children from parents. He creates, he destroys. Why the hell can’t he find anything within him to close this deal? This man is almost worse than Alexander himself. But, he finds himself unable. He straightens to his full height, allowing the human disguise to fall.   
“No.” He says. The man just about shits his pants, staring up at Alexander. He attempts to stammer out a response, but Alexander disappears before the man can get anything other than a “b-bu-”. 

John’s eleven. Mommy coughs a lot. Da-Father stops bring strange women into his bedroom. Mommy and Father sleep in different bedrooms. He has a little brother now. He’s named after Father. Henry Jr looks like John. He has stars painted across his face, and eyes that are brighter than the moon. John promises himself that nothing will ever dull the shine in his baby brother’s eyes.

Alexander is five hundred. Years younger than any other, yet years and brains beyond any other. He should not be camped out in a young boy’s bedroom. He sits in the closet, the door slightly ajar. Strange noises come from the other bedroom, just across the hall. He watches the boy climb into the closet, and cover his ears and body with shirts pulled from the hangers almost too tall for the boy to reach. Alexander watches him. The boy’s eyes closed and his breath evened out slowly. Alexander found himself pulling the shirt higher on the boy’s body in a pitiful attempt to keep him warm. 

John is twelve. James is only a year old. Mom seems to be getting better. He stares at his closet. The door is open, and it seems darker than he remembers. He leaves the door open, but crawls into his bed, the same as he has since he was ten. Father stopped bringing women home while Mom was at the hospital. They’ve begun to sleep in the same room. For the first time since Martha, John feels like everything is going to be alright. He watches the door open wider, and he smiles.   
“Lex?” He whispers. The smoke from his closet shifts. Shadows crawl to the edge of his bed, and smile at the boy in front of him.   
“Hi Jacky.”

Alexander reaches out to John when’s he’s nine. After the first night that John spent in the closet, he slept there for almost two years. Not every night, just when the boy’s father brought home prostitutes and escorts. In Alexander’s opinion, it’s too often. A different woman every two or three nights is a bit much.

John’s sixteen. He’s standing at his mother’s grave. A hand grips his shoulder. Too tight. He’s holding his baby sister. Mother had barely muttered the girl’s name. “Mary…” Henry held her hand when she took her final breath. It was the first time he’d seen his father cry. Martha holds one of his hands, Henry jr is holding his father’s. They are the only ones in the graveyard. It’s sunny outside. John hates it. John wishes it was raining. Then he could hide the tears that stream down his face. Mary Eleanor Laurens babbles in his ear. John isn’t sure if he should hate her. He doesn’t. It’s not her fault. Mom had always been weaker after Henry, and only gotten worse after James. Mary Eleanor had just been too much. 

Alexander watches from the closet, every night. He watches John come in later and later every year. He knows what’s happening, the night that John comes into his room, in tears. Alexander isn’t sure what he’s feeling. He knows the name, sadness, maybe pity, or perhaps...Sympathy?   
Alexander stays away from John’s bedroom the next few nights. This..human..boy is stirring emotions that Alexander hasn’t felt since...he can’t remember. He’s not sure if he likes it.

John’s nineteen. He and his father rarely speak. He only stays for his siblings. As long as John stays, Father’s anger stays away from them. He can handle this. He knows he can. He knows it could be worse. Father could know. John can keep his secret to protect his siblings. For the first time in four years, he pulls a blanket into a closet, and for the first time since his mother died, he slept soundly, through the entire night. At some point in the night, he’s sure something strokes his cheek, but he can’t find the energy to care. 

Alexander’s surprised to find John in the closet that night. John’s now..18? 19? Time works differently for humans. He had heard the shouting, and various doors slamming shut. He breezes past the sleeping boy into John’s siblings bedrooms. The youngest? Martha? No, that was the eldest girl. Madeline? No, Mary. Mary had pulled her blankets over her head, and John’s brother..Harry? No, Henry. Named after the asshole he had to call a father. Henry snuck in, only a few moments after Alexander. The two don’t exchange words, but the boy crawls into the overly pink bed, and pulls his little sister close. He slinks away again, seeing both of their eyes slowly fall shut. He makes his way back to John’s room, and strokes the boy’s cheek. He remembers the promise he made to himself, when John was only six years old. He will never let anyone hurt this boy. 

John woke up cold, the shirts covering his body having fallen off. Sunlight streams in from the crack between the door and floor of his closet. He reaches up to rub his eyes, and in the corner of his eye, he sees something move. His breath hitches, and he presses his hand to the door, allowing the light to seep in more. Another man sits before him, head leaning against the wall. He looks familiar, but John can’t put his finger on it. The man has dark hair, to his shoulders, and an impressive goatee. His eyes open, and they are dark, much darker than John’s used to seeing, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think they were black. He could almost laugh, as the two stared at each other. John’s eyes narrowed in confusion, while the other man’s widened, in almost...panic? After a beat, John’s eyes widen, and the other man..Alex...puts a finger over his mouth.   
“Lex?…” He whispers, heart beating faster and faster. 

Alexander isn’t sure how exactly he’d allowed himself to be caught off guard. He remembers settling in across from John and only closing his eyes for a moment. The next thing he knows, light is assaulting his eyes, and John is staring at him, openmouthed. The boy’s eyes widen, and he hurriedly puts a finger in front of his lips, not wanting John to scream or alert his family.   
“Lex?” Is the only thing to leave the boy’s mouth. Alexander nods and gives him a small smile.   
“Hi, Jacky.” He breathes.


End file.
